Paradox- The 100th Hunger Games
by ellisadara
Summary: "It's been a hundred years since these games have started. So, as this year's twist, each tribute will have to repeat history. They will have each a tribute to kill, and a way to kill them, mimicking a famous death in Hunger Games history. If they fail to, or someone else kills that tribute, they will die." Closed SYOT
1. Quarter Quell

"Are you sure it will work?"

The woman bends her head closer to the paper, forehead crinkled in a slight frown as she studies the map.

"Positive." That's the man next to her speaking, the designer of the map, we'll say. He has thinning, brownish hair and he looks at his companion with a gaze of confidence and sincerity.

The woman pauses, turning to face the other. She hesitates for a moment, like she is about to speak, then deciding against it, turning back to study the design.

"Trust me, it'll work." he says, taking the map from her. "Here."

Instead of passing anything to her, he turns his head to a large computer screen. Tapping it, he makes sure nobody else is around before entering in some sort of code.

The woman gasps.

She gasps because before her is a full, 3D map of the arena that has been projected onto the table before her. Strange, jagged peaks and bumps, half formed buildings, traps and snares hidden it seemed everywhere. It was formed in such intricate detail, even trees and vines could be seen.

"It's definitely been renovated." she says, brushing cyan hair out of her eyes. "How did you hide this?"

"I have my ways," the man replied, simply. "It's been a hundred years, I thought we should pay homage."

She nods, still transfixed. "But… what about the Quell? How do we know that it will work with the President's plan?"

The man shakes his head. "It will, I know it. He's already told me."

There is a gasp. "Would you like me to tell you?" he says, quietly. The woman nods.

"The catch, of sorts, for this year's Quarter Quell is special. It's been a hundred years since these games have started. So, as this year's twist, each tribute will have to repeat history. They will have each a tribute to kill, and a way to kill them, mimicking a famous death in Hunger Games history. If they fail to, or someone else kills that tribute, they will die. "

 **Eyy! I haven't written one of these since I was 12/13ish, on a hidden account whose name will remain anonymous. Please send in your characters by PM, I will not accept any by review. Form is in my profile, as well as guidelines, which you will HAVE to follow. This is not first come, first serve.**

 **I will choose some more major characters, but all characters will be featured. The more I like your tribute, the more interesting and unique they are, the more likely I will choose them to play a major part in the story.**

 **Thank you, and good luck!**


	2. The List

From the outside, The Headquarters building looked how it always had. It's simplistic design made it stick out like a sore thumb amongst it's neon neighbors. It's light blue steel was carved into spirals around the main body of the building, a glass elevator on it's left side giving view to smartly dressed Capitol citizens who were rushing to their jobs as the games began their formal start.

A woman hurried down the busied streets, avoiding women in pink coats and hair the size of jupiter, men in see-through shirts. Like the building she was heading to, she looked positively plain in a crowd of abnormalities. Personally, she didn't mind. She didn't like the 'mainstream' style very much.

In her right hand she clasped a large, white envelope, while her other hand brushed newly dyed fuschia hair over her shoulder. Avoiding the curious stares from onlookers, the woman brushed on, eyes set on her destination.

The Headquarters didn't have any guards, rather a large biometric scanner. It was much more effective, letting out a large alarm when anybody unauthorised attempted to enter the building. Usually that would just be curious Capitol citizens who were just attempting to look at the maps for the arena, or video footage of the tributes during training. Rarely it would be anything menacing, fortunately the woman hadn't had anything like that happen in her seven years of working as a gamemaker.

Passing the biometric scanners in a breeze, she nodded a quick hello at the people on the ground floor- those were the genetic scientists- who were gaping at the piece of paper in her hand. Smiling a bit smugly, she turned to the elevator and keyed in the 18th floor. Gamemaker headquarters.

Still smiling, she glanced down at the envelope. Inside lay the name of the tributes for this year's Hunger Games, all 24 of them. It was standard that the Capitol wait an hour before the reapings were published, just in case something had to be cut out of the cameras; rebellious speeches, for instance. To her knowledge, nothing of the sort had happened, so she was confident that they would be aired sooner than usual.

It was her job to deliver the paper. What an honour.

"Diana!" a voice greeted her as the elevator doors slid open. Diana's eyes met those of Cassius Gaius, the head gamemaker for this year's Quarter Quell. His hands looked slightly stronger, and his hair fuller. It seemed he had gone for surgery, _again._ Now he looked the same age as Diana, which was a youthful 30. He couldn't have been younger than 40, however. He'd been a Gamemaker for a good few years before she had even joined seven years ago.

"Have you got the list? Wonderful!" Cassius exclaimed. She smiled coyly, before plopping down in the seat next to him.  
"First, you're going to tell me. How did you do the arena without anyone finding out?" she said, leaning back in her seat, holding the paper over his head.  
"Diana! This is important!" he hissed, but she just shook her head. "Fine. Nobody really visits the arena anymore, it's not as well done as some of the recent ones. I just closed a few parts at a time for 'renovations', okay? Now give me the paper- I need to work out the pairings and methods of killing!"

Sighing, she dropped the envelope on the desk in front of him. "It's not the only copy anyways, President Hilarius has one." she grumbled.

Ignoring her, Cassius greedily tore open the envelope and snatched the first paper.

"Let me see!" Diana peered over his shoulder to try and get a glance at this year's tributes. Each paper had a photo of the tributes at the reapings and their age and name.

 _District One Female_

 **NAME: Olympia Luxton**

 **AGE: 18**

 **VOLUNTEER**

The photo showed a pale teen with a smile on her face. She looked slim, fit and was not heavily made up like some previous females from the district. Her hair appeared a dark blonde, ending at her shoulders and her grey eyes looked determined.

"She looks strong." Diana noted. Cassius gave a non-comic shrug before flipping the page.

 _District One Male_

 **NAME: Allen Distain**

 **AGE: 18**

 **VOLUNTEER**

Like Olympia, Allen's hair was also a blonde, though much lighter. He had fairly good looks, typical for District One; muscular, tall, confident smile. His eyes were a bright blue and were staring directly at the camera.

"He kind of reminds me of Prince Methis, don't you think?" Cassius looked up from the page. Diana could see the resemblance. Prince was a tribute in the 59th Games, another tribute from One. His death hadn't been particularly nice, and she could see from Cassius' eyes what he was planning.

 _District Two Female_

 **NAME: Sasha Graves**

 **AGE: 18**

 **VOLUNTEER**

This girl had a very confident smile plastered on her pretty face. Her hair was a shocking purple, very unnatural for a District person, however the dark liner around her chocolate brown eyes and perfect, light brown, skin. Her dress- unusually stylized and really quite short- supported this.

"I like her." Cassius remarked, getting a whop on the head from an outraged Diana.  
"Just because she's pretty doesn't mean you can be biased!" she snapped.

 _District Two Male_

 **NAME: Matte Parker**

 **AGE: 17**

 **VOLUNTEER**

This boy seemed to be striking some sort of pose for the camera, or perhaps in the middle of cracking up. Either way, his smile seemed to be very genuine. He wore a plain button up and pants and his dark hair was falling into his amber eyes.

"He looks like a handful…" Cassius groaned. Diana shook her head and snatched the paper from his hands.  
"I like him."  
"What did you _literally_ just say about bias?"

 _District Three Female_

 **NAME: Vivi Robyn**

 **AGE: 13**

 **REAPED**

The photo showed a rail thin girl with flimsy blonde hair and dressed in something just a step up from rags. Her eyes were wide and afraid, skin ashen with fear.

Both Cassius and Diana agreed that she wouldn't last long.

 _District_ _Three Male_

 **NAME:** **Caine Ashe**

 **AGE: 17**

 **VOLUNTEERED**

Caine, in the photo, had somewhat of a piercing stare, his grey eyes blazing into the cameras and very dark hair, contrasting with his pale skin. Other than his eyes, his arm was something of note- a metallic prosthetic.

Diana caught herself wondering what a boy from Three was doing volunteering, but Cassius spoke before she could ask. He muttered something along the lines of " _smart boy"_ and scribbled something down. Diana decided it wasn't the moment to ask.

 _District_ _Four Female_

 **NAME: Acadia Lynne**

 **AGE: 16**

 **VOLUNTEERED**

There were quite a few volunteers this year, but none were as young as Acadia. She had a fierce expression, as if staring down the camera, despite her short stature. Her brown hair was tied into a tight ponytail at the back of her head, and her teal eyes were piercing. Her tan shoulders were strong, and if looks could kill, both Cassius and Diana would be dead.

"Yeesh, scary." Diana said, flipping the page quickly. And usually the tributes from Four weren't as threatening.

 _District_ _Four Male_

 **NAME: Teal Marrina**

 **AGE: 17**

 **REAPED**

For someone being reaped, Teal didn't look at all terrified. In fact, quite the opposite, he looked right in his element as he gazed over the crowd. A little smug, even. Next to Acadia, the two were polar opposites. He was tall, pale of skin- unusual for the district- and his hair was in some sort of a buzz cut. He looked right at home on the stage.

"Are you sure he wasn't supposed to be the volunteer?" Diana turned to her companion, but he was again writing something down in his notepad. Leaning in, he could see he was jotting down the names of previous tributes and victors. _He's already working out who they're going to be assigned to_ she realized.

 _District_ _Five Female_

 **NAME: Laurel Vake**

 **AGE: 14**

 **REAPED**

The girl in the picture was already crying. Given, she was quite pretty, with a dainty figure and long reddish hair. However, whatever points she could have gained from looks were already dashed by the sobbing that could clearly be seen in the picture. She looked like a doll, pale skin, large round eyes and a button mouth.

"Shame." Diana muttered. She didn't think Cassius heard her.

 _District_ _Five Male_

 **NAME: Emmett Harley**

 **AGE: 16**

 **REAPED**

Unlike his District partner, Emmett looked quite calm. Sure, his light green eyes betrayed fear, but his mouth was set in a thin, determined line. He was quite good looking, in a dorky way, messy brown hair and glasses. He wasn't looking at the camera, but someone in the audience. It didn't show who.

"The Capitol will like him." Cassius nodded his head towards the picture. "He looks like their typical favourite."  
Diana silently agreed. Sometimes they liked people like him. They never got far, though.

 _District_ _Six Female_

 **NAME:** **Rachel Turner**

 **AGE: 15**

 **VOLUNTEERED**

Scratch that, this girl was the youngest volunteer. She had a very determined look on her face, not cold… just… determined. Her black hair was tied up behind her, brown eyes seemingly scanning the crowd, though not for anyone in particular. Her olive skin was tanned and she had well muscled arms.

"For a Quarter Quell, there's a lot of volunteers." Diana noted, looking over the girl.  
"For some reason, I don't think many people should mess with her."

 _District_ _Six Male_

 **NAME: Devon Lithe**

 **AGE: 12**

 **REAPED**

Devon was trembling from head to foot, and it was obvious in the photo. The poor boy was looking at the crowd as if hoping for some sort of salvation, someone to volunteer in his place. Twylah was giving him a sympathetic look, but he was hardly looking at her. His grey eyes were watery with tears.

Neither of the two said anything.

 _District_ _Seven Female_

 **NAME: Ivey Ambrose**

 **AGE: 17**

 **REAPED**

The girl was terrified, there was no denying that. Her light eyes were bloodshot, as if she hadn't got enough sleep the night before, and her hair was a mess. It seemed she was trembling, her hands thrust into her pockets and peering up at the cameras behind her glasses.

 _District_ _Seven Male_

 **NAME:** **Lock Barker**

 **AGE: 18**

 **REAPED**

Lock looked blank, as if the shock hadn't really set in yet. Maybe it hadn't. Of average build and height, nothing about him was really noticeable to Diana, but Cassius made a sound as if there was something about Lock that struck him as odd. His pale skin was callused and his brown eyes looked dull.

"Hm…" was all Cassius said. From that, Diana could already read that there was more than met the eye to Lock.

 _District_ _Eight Female_

 **NAME:** **Twylah Stitch**

 **AGE: 16**

 **REAPED**

A thin girl with a shocked expression was looking at her escort, as if hanging onto something. Her brown, frizzy, hair cascaded down her back and she looked as if she was trying to hang onto something. Her eyes reminded Diana of those of a doe, large and dark, round from confusion.

"Now… if I pair her with Olympia…" Cassius began.  
"You're going to pair her with _Olympia._ She'll die if she's Olympia's target…" she tried to say, cut off by Cassius' confused expression. "I like her. Give her someone else."  
"Fine."

 _District_ _Eight Male_

 **NAME: Nike Larke**

 **AGE: 16**

 **REAPED**

This boy looked ahead at the camera like he knew they were taking a photo of him- maybe he did. Either way, he gave them a look which could either be registered as anger or maybe just fear. His skin was brownish, eyes a light amber and hair a dark mess on his head. His dark pants and white shirt looked rather expensive, so maybe he wasn't badly off.

"Wow. He looks seriously pissed."

"Well, who wouldn't be?" Cassius shrugged again, brushing the boy off like he was nothing and turning to the next tribute.

 _District_ _Nine Female_

 **NAME: Maureen Wilson**

 **AGE: 15**

 **REAPED**

Maureen was a very short girl, and didn't look like she could hurt a fly, but despite that she was giving the Capitol a huge grin. Quite pretty, her green eyes looked like a cat's and her light brown hair was in a sort of bun-braid thing. She didn't look a bit nervous.

"She could be acting, you know." Diana noted,and her companion nodded, immediately scribbling something in his notebook.

 _District_ _Nine Male_

 **NAME: Criss Zen**

 **AGE: 14**

 **REAPED**

Whoever Criss was, he made no impression whatsoever. Whatever expression he was giving, it wasn't a very strong one. Nor was he much physically, not short or tall or anything but average. His brown eyes were dull, his black hair was flat.

"Boooring!" Cassius sighed, flicking the paper over to the next one.

 _District_ _Ten Female_

 **NAME: Navi Blackwood**

 **AGE: 16**

 **REAPED**

This girl was quite tall, with messily cut hair and tan skin. Though at first glance she looked fairly confident and stood up straight, you could tell from the expression in her brown eyes that she was really terrified. Her eyes were rimmed with something that wasn't makeup… was that…

"Charcoal?" Diana exclaimed. "I'd never wear that!"  
"It wouldn't do anything honey." Cassius shrugged. "She's got guts, I guess."

 _District_ _Ten Male_

 **NAME:** Rave Kriss

 **AGE: 12**

 **REAPED**

There was no photo.

"How odd…."

 _District_ _Eleven Female_

 **NAME:** **Daine Snowdon**

 **AGE: 17**

 **VOLUNTEERED**

Whoever Daine was, she looked pretty tough. Her blonde hair was tied into a plait and her dark blue eyes pierced through the paper. Still, she didn't look like a typical volunteer from an outside district, as if trying to prove her worth. She just looked… normal.

"How many volunteers are we getting this year?" Cassius almost seemed disappointed. Diana liked the look of this girl.

 _District_ _Eleven Male_

 **NAME: Rory Oaks**

 **AGE: 18**

 **REAPED**

Rory was somewhat of a gentle giant, or that's what he looked like. It could be a ploy, but the tears he was sprouting looked realistic enough. His skin was dark and muscled, but it seemed only so due to crop picking. He had sort of a puppy dog face, pouty face and big eyes.

"He looks like a pushover…" Cassius groaned.

 _District_ _Twelve Female_

 **NAME: Cassandra Grey**

 **AGE: 12**

 **REAPED**

Unlike the other tributes her age, Cassandra wasn't crying. In fact, she had a brave little smile on her face, her brown eyes shining. She almost seemed rather brave. Quite cute, with short brown hair and tan skin, a bright pink dress to finish it off.

Diana's heart melted. "Go easy on her…" she said gently, gesturing to Cassius. He didn't reply.

 _District_ _Twelve Male_

 **NAME: Lukah Aspen**

 **AGE: 15**

 **REAPED**

Their last tribute looked as if he was going to pass out right on stage, not from fear- though that was also apparent on his emaciated face- but from pure weakness. His body was stick thin, his hair dull and greasy and clothes stained. His eyes looked dead.

"Poor kid." is all Diana said.

And that was the list.

 **I'M SORRY IF YOU DIDN'T GET A CHANCE TO SEND IN YOUR CHARACTER OR IF I DENIED THEM AAA I HAD A DEADLINE. Ok, now that I said that, I hope you've enjoyed the chapter! It's longer than I intended it to be, whoops, and it took much longer to write than I intended because my computer is lame and freezes way too often.**

 **I wanted to get a chapter or two done before I get back to school on Tuesday, so here's one, haha. Next year for me is the dreaded gcse year *spoopy jazz hands* which I KNOW is nothing compared to a levels, but it means with mock exams and actual exams later in the year I may be gone for some stretch of time.**

 **Anyways, thank you to anyone who submitted, it means a lot! I'll post who the tributes belong to in my profile at one point, some of the bloodbath tributes that are mentioned here won't really be again. Both Acadia and Emmett belong to me as failed/denied tributes in other collabs/syots I've been a part of.**

 **Who knows? Some denied tributes may pop up somewhere? Keep your eyes open ;)**


	3. District Two Reapings

**I'm too bored to be honest. IT'S SUMMER HOLIDAYS EM, GET A LIFE!**

 **No matter. I'm glad to be writing for people, but don't get used to daily updates. I'm only doing this because I can't record my psychology homework rn.**

 **I don't think reapings are going to be in order. I'll just write them as I feel like it. There will be two reapings per chapter, though two characters may be from different districts if both of the characters' partners are bloodbaths.**

 **Let's just get with it. Here's District Two. WARNING: There's a little bit of swearing.**

 _From the POV of Sasha Graves, 18._

Unlike most kids all around Panem, when I've woken up it's not from a fretful sleep at all. In fact, last night I fell asleep the instant my head hit my satin pillow. Still, I'm up slightly before the sun has risen fully in the sky by the blaring of my alarm.

Groaning slightly, I'm about to roll over and switch it off- _I need my beauty sleep for god's sake_ \- when I remember what day it is. It explains the odd silence from outside my window because usually Two is bustling with people at this hour, students heading off to the schools or the Training Academy, adults heading to jobs and Peacekeeper troops marching down the streets. Today, Reaping Day, is a public holiday and we take these at liberty. It's not often we get a day off, and for us it really _is_ a day off because we're not worrying about the reapings or anything. We know who our tributes are.

And one of them is me.

Glancing at the clock, I nearly have a mini heart attack. The reaping is in just over two hours! I will NEVER have enough time to get ready, meet up with my 'friends' and confirm with the academy. God, why do our reapings have to be so early?  
Practically leaping out of bed, I rush to my vanity. Truth be told, I need to ask my parents for a bigger one. Sure, we'll have to import it from District One, but that's okay, we have the money. Then I remember that I can have anything I want when I win the Games and slowly a grin spreads across my face. Good.

My hair looks pretty good, I have to say. I dyed it a new colour the other day, especially for the Games. Apparently purple is in with the Capitol this year, at least that's what we're told on the TV. Grabbing my large comb, I brush out the tangles from my bed hair. When I'm satisfied with my job, I grab the curling iron sitting next to my dress and start my work.

As I do, my mind begins to drift. I had to admit, I was so pleased when it was announced I would be the volunteer for this year. Not that it would have mattered, I would have still done so even if I wasn't chosen. Obviously I'm going to be the better choice this year, and thank god the trainers saw it. Sure, Ramona was a tad disappointed that it wouldn't be her, but as much as I like that girl, I don't think she would have won. I tell her most things, but I wouldn't say that to her face.  
On the other hand… Tamara. God, that girl does not cease to irritate me. It's nice, she does everything I tell her and doesn't question me (ooh I can't wait to do that to Hestia Adela, our escort. If anything she's even more of a pushover than Tamara!). Still, the girl annoys me to no end with her pining and constant attention. Doesn't she _know_ that I want to be left alone?  
She's just my friend because of my money. Like all of them, except Ramona. Whatever, it's not like I care much for them either way. It's nice to have a few lackeys.

I turn to apply my makeup now, careful not to smudge any of my velvet eyeliner around my caramel skin.

What about my District partner, though? If I'm totally honest, I don't really know him and I don't think he ever stood out- otherwise I would have paid attention. Matte, I think his name was? Evidently not attractive either, I don't even know him by name.

It's a little bit of a shame that I had to be chosen for a Quell like this. It makes stuff a little complicated, especially if another career decides that they are going to take my kill. I don't know the rules of what happens when your target dies, I suppose it's to be explained. Either way, more likely the person who has me as their target is one of the weaklings. I don't plan on dying anytime soon.  
Still, it makes things interesting. When I win, I'll be even more of a prodigy, someone they'll look up to. I'll be even more powerful than a normal victor.

Good.

I'm done now, having slipped into my dress. It's a bit unusual, short, red and black and if I could find one way to describe it I would say "Punk Rock". Some sort of old term I found in a book, quite liked it so I stole. Not like anyone would know.

There's a knock on the door as I say goodbye to my parents, and as I fling it open I find it's my slaves- sorry- 'friends'. Tamara is at the forefront of the group, looking up at me with wide eyes.  
"You look great, Sasha!" she squeaks, looking me up and down.  
"Yeah. Shame nobody in the right mind would say that to _you."_ I reply, grabbing my favourite combat boots and slipping them on. It's true, though. Tamara doesn't have much of a style sense- her dress colour is an almost vomit green, and her makeup looks like it's plastered on. My comment gets a snigger from some of the other girls, and as we start to walk towards the reapings Ramona pulls me to a side.

"You didn't need to say that…" she says, looking at Tamara, who's a little bit subdued.  
"I know.. I just.. needed to put her in her place." I say. I'm not so much of a bitch around Ramona, but it's true. Tamara needs to know where she belongs.

Ramona rolls her eyes slightly indignantly, but just continues walking. I walk along, accepting comments and compliments from people. As we arrive, Tamara turns to wish me luck.  
"It'll probably be the last time I see you, so-"  
I stop her mid sentence. "What did you say, _skank?_ " I hiss. "Are you implying I'm going to lose?"  
Tamara begins to cower. "N-no! I just…"

"Good. Because I'm going to win, and when I do, you're going to pay."

With that, I turn around, fling my hair over my shoulder and walk away. My time to shine has arrived.

 _From the POV of Matte Parker_

"How the hell did _you_ get chosen?" Noir asks me as I make my way out of the academy, eyes sort of wide in shock.  
"Hey!" I retort, looking mock insulted. The truth is, just like him, I'm surprised at the decision that the trainers have made. I'd only been that morning to check it was real and I wasn't being lied to. When the list had came out yesterday, I hadn't even bothered to check. I was so sure that it wasn't going to be me, obviously it wasn't. I wasn't top of the class, trainers didn't even pay attention to me- not like I really cared. But then, yesterday afternoon our neighbors came round to congratulate Mom and I and I had to see it with my own two eyes.  
"You're a goof off, just like me Matte! We don't get top marks, we don't even put in extra hours training. What did you do that pissed them off so bad they'd send you into the Games?"  
I shrug. "They wouldn't do that, they need a champion. I'll ask Harvey."

Harvey is the trainer that's been teaching me since I was 12. Well, technically he's been teaching our whole class since we were all 12, so it's not like I have a special bond with him or anything. Still, if anyone, he's the only guy I'd be able to question about this. I don't think I know them by name, and considering the countless pranks I've pulled on them, I don't think they like me very much.

Noir looks concerned, and I know what he's thinking. "You can just not volunteer if you don't want to. I'm sure Pax would thank you."  
Pax is the guy who was so sure he'd be the volunteer this year. A monster of a boy, he can lift things at least thrice his weight and looks like an oversized bulldog.  
I think Noir knows that I will volunteer.

"Is it true you're with Graves?" he asks. I nod. Sasha Graves is this year's female volunteer, one of the prettiest and most popular girl in the district. Most guys would die to be in my position purely because of Sasha. I've never spoken to her before, she's not in my class and I've never had reason to. Don't care for her very much, if I'm honest.  
"Hot damn…" Noir murmurs, causing me to elbow him in the ribs. "Jeez!"  
"Stop it, she's a coldhearted bitch and you know it. She'd kill me in an instant if she had the chance."

Noir smiles drops and is replaced with a look of concern. I know what he's thinking and I'm thinking it too. I'm going to fucking die. Oh my god.  
The truth is, I don't have very much of an asset. Sure, I'm smarter than most of the tributes, but I don't have the raw strength most other guys from my district have, nor do I have the looks. Sure, I look a bit different- my mom says it's because she's descended from somewhere called "Korea"?. She looks much more different than me, and we stand out in the district where most people look more or less similar. My father was white though, you can tell by looking at me that I'm half-half. Still, it's not much of an asset. I've never been attractive.

"Parker." a voice calls my name, causing me to break out of my reverie. It's Harvey, my trainer, and he's waving me over.  
Nodding his head to tell me it's ok, Noir jogs off to meet some of the other boys from our training class who are hanging out on the academy grounds. Alone now, I walk up to my trainer.

Harvey never volunteered, but like all second place students, he got a job as a trainer in the Academy. It's a well paid job, and well sought after as well. Still, I can tell he's a little bitter because of his loss.

"You're wondering why I chose you and not Pax, right?" he says, getting straight to the point. I just nod.  
There is a silence, as if he's waiting for me to speak.  
"I just thought it'd be strange you'd choose me… I'm not as good as a lot of the guys…" I mumble.  
Harvey sighs. "Just because they use brute force doesn't mean they'll win."  
I look up.  
"That prank, the one you pulled with Noir and Kaden in the training hall."  
I remember that one. We managed to trap Harvey as a joke, pin him down and snare him. Students did it all the time, try to get their trainers to prove they were worthy. We did it as a joke, though.

"I remember."  
"That was smart. You're smart. I never really paid attention, and then.. BAM!" he claps his hands together.  
"You get top scores in all your written tests. You're a goof off, Matte. You don't take anything seriously, you mess around all the time and that nonchalant attitude gets on my nerves sometimes. But you're smart and that's what we need this year. Pax wouldn't survive with a twist like this."

I pause. "You think I can survive?"  
He growls. "I'm not an idiot, Parker. Now get your ass out there and volunteer."

I smile. Okay then sir, whatever you say. I'll volunteer…I'll probably die, sure. But at least I can have some fun first.

 **PHOTOGRAPHS**

SASHA- Frozen in the moment, taking the the citizens who are watching their next female tribute, their next _victor._ It's impossible not to give some sort of a smile, a smirk. Hey Capitol, look at me! I'm gonna win this shit, so watch out!

MATTE- I'm laughing. It's just… so absurd that _I'm_ the volunteer, the tribute from Two who's standing next to Sasha Graves and waving at a crowd. It's ridiculous. All my anxiety fades into a bout of hysterical laugher and I know Sasha's staring at me like I'm crazy, but I don't care. Fuck it. If I die, I'm gonna go out in style.

 **There we go, both of our Tributes from Two. Sasha was submitted by rmq1 and Matte was sent in by Leaving Autumn. Thank you both for these tributes!**

 **So, how did you like this chapter? Who do you think has the most chance of winning? Who do you like best? Any potential allies? I adore hearing your thoughts, so please review!**

 **Until next time!**


	4. District Eight Reapings

**Hey there! Essentially, I've decided to do a chapter a day up until I get back to school, which is on the 1st. After that, I'm hoping to upload biweekly, but we'll see how that goes. After all, it depends how I adjust and the amount of homework I'll be getting.**

 **Otherwise, I promise you guys that there'll be new chapters at LEAST once a week and I'll always let you know when I can't update.**

 **There might be a bit of confusion about today's chapter. I had to swap Nike and Devon's districts- not because of a mistake but because of plot related stuff. Yup, I've already decided on who is whose 'victim' for the Games, and have a vague idea of how it's going to be mapped out. I don't know who is going to win, that'll come from a character popularity poll by you guys, and a few other factors. More on that when it happens.**

 **Thank you for all your kind reviews, and enjoy this chapter!**

 **DISTRICT EIGHT REAPINGS**

 _From the POV of Twylah Stitch_

I didn't really get much sleep last night, so I'm awake long before the warm morning light filters through the cracks in my curtains. I'm up to hear the noises of the rooster that Ashley from next door owns, the creaks in the floorboards as Jacob paces around in his room. Obviously he hasn't gotten much sleep either.

Eventually it's time to get up, or at least I suppose so- given the sun's position in the sky. Tiptoeing across my room as to not wake my parents, I make my way to the door, which opens to the main room. Our house has four rooms and a small, closet sized, bathroom. I used to share my bedroom with my older sister, Jean, when we were younger. Since she left to go live with her new husband, the room can feel very lonely. I'm not complaining, it is nice to keep my trinkets around, books I've picked up from people who don't want them anymore- Dad is still trying to get me to give some up, we'll need the firewood when winter rolls around- my folded up clothes and random items.  
My brother has his room to himself, which was always a point of jealousy when I was a kid. Now it doesn't mean much, but I remember begging my parents that I should have it because I was older. Jean also used to try to persuade them, even though the two of us got along swimmingly.

On the other side of the house is my parents' room, and then we have the room in the middle what we end up calling the 'everything' room. Essentially a mélange of a kitchen, dining and living room. A table, four chairs and a smaller table with a game of cards lying unfinished, it's not much. Sitting there, at the dining table, is my brother.  
"You all okay?" I ask him. It's not often that he's up early, but I guess we're all nervous.

He nods. "Yeah." he replies, but I can tell he's lying. It's because of the way he's staring down at the table and how he doesn't meet my glare when I look at him.  
I sigh. "Liar."

He laughs. "Isn't Sarah coming over soon?" Jacob asks, looking up. It's a sort of calming ritual that she and I go for a walk in the park right before the reapings, just talking. I nod.  
"She should be within the half hour. The reapings are earlier this year, and we need to get ready as well."

"You're not leaving just yet, are you?" a voice asks. Looking up, I meet my father's dark brown eyes- the ones I inherited. Behind him stands my mother, her hand on his shoulder. Her hair is dishevelled and there are dark circles under her eyes. It looks like nobody slept last night.  
I kiss them both on the cheek. "Not just yet.".

Sarah arrives just as we finish the card game we left last night. Promising I'll be back soon, I grab my cardigan by the door and step outside into the chilly air.

It's always cold in Eight, no matter what time of the year it is. Even now, in Autumn the only way to warm up is to light a fire at night.  
"It's weird that it's so silent, right?" Sarah notes as we head down the street, the sides cluttered with houses. We're heading to the only patch of greenery in the district, and usually even though I live quite far away from the factories, at this time of day the streets are crowded with people heading to work.  
"Just another reminder…" I say.

For a while she and I forget about the games and begin talking about silly little things. Our new science teacher, which older students we find more attractive- girl talk, essentially. Sarah teases me about a 17 year old girl I find cute, though I protest that her twin brother is equally good looking.  
And then we see the sign that points us towards the reaping.  
"The odds are so low." she says. I know she's right, and I know she's trying to encourage me, but it's not helping. I don't know what this irrational feeling is, this feeling that I'm going to be the female tribute this year. It's stupid, dumb, most likely completely wrong and isn't doing much for my mental health, but for some reason I believe it.  
"Yeah." I lie. "Let's turn around."

 _From the POV of Nike Larke_

I don't want to talk to her now. I don't want to talk to **anyone** right now. For once, I just want to be left alone in my room and have a mental breakdown about the reapings by myself.

"Nike! Get your ass out here, now!" she calls, banging her hands on the door. I probably should open; otherwise she'll find a way of getting back at me somehow.  
"I'm just getting changed!" I say, trying to keep my voice even and cheery. It seems to fool her, because she ceases her banging.  
"I don't like you locking your door." she replies, aggression still in her voice.  
Once my mother has left, I flop down on the bed. _The only reason I lock my door is because you never knock._

She's in a bad mood today. To be expected, she has a migraine again, but I would think she'd be nice considering it's reaping day. I wonder if she remembers that.

Yesterday she was nice. Came as a sort of a surprise this morning when she yelled at me to get my lazy butt out of bed because I was going to get fat.

Mom, we don't have enough food for me to get fat.

That's not to say we're poor, because we're not. My father is a manager at the factories, in fact we have a _lot_ of money for citizens from Eight. That's not to say, though, we're rich. We see what some people in the other districts have on the TV. Double, almost triple what we have. Quadruple what some others do.

I should get up.

Actually, I'm already dressed. It's been ages, and it's just about time to head out. Maybe Mom did remember that it's reaping day, then.

I wear what I did last year, button up shirt and dark pants. I don't care much for fashion, which is something she uses against me because apparently I'm 'good looking' and if I tried then girls would like me.

That's a big laugh. I'm gay.

Not like I'd tell her that.

I peek my head around the doorway, and she's not there- thank god- so I make my way downstairs. Our double story house is set on the top of a hill so I have a good view of District Eight. Camera crews are already swarming around the city centre and I can make out teenagers walking there in huddles, backs bent and arms crossed as if to protect themselves.  
"I'm going!" I call.

"Ok." she replies from upstairs. She's back in bed.

I think she's sick. It would explain her hot/cold moods, her anger with me yet her chronic tiredness. I wish we had the money to fix her. I wish I didn't hate her.

"Hey Nike, save the sour face for when you get reaped." a voice calls, and I turn from my position on the porch to see my friend, Manon, looking up at me. Manon is a year my senior, her father works with mine at the factories. We've been friends since we were kids. She's my only friend. I can be a bit bristly around people I don't know, and I don't know most people so it ends up being a vicious cycle.

No matter. I like Manon.

"Ok. I'll meet you on the stage." I say sarcastically, walking to meet up with her. Together, we begin to walk to the reapings.

After a few minutes we arrive. I live close to the centre, and Manon lives practically next door to me.  
"You should stop giving people the death stare. It's intimidating." she says, nodding towards a group that just parted in our way.  
"Excuse you, that's just my normal face."  
"And your normal attitude is pretty stoic…" she says, raising an eyebrow.

"You're mean."  
"See you later, loser."

As I walk to my roped section, I realise she's right, some guys have parted away to make a large gap for me to stand in. Guess I really do have a death stare, huh.  
Manon and I take this whole reaping thing really seriously. We haven't since we were 14. Thing being, it's so unlikely it'll be us. Eight has the highest population and there are so many kids our age. It's unlikely.

I look around and the scared faces around me. Should I be afraid?

Before I can make myself terrified as well, a high pitch voice greets us. It's Lila Jelovich, the escort for this year's Hunger Games. She's new, all blue and pink and I hate her.

I hate the games too. Not like that's new.

She goes on and on, talking about some vapid stuff that I couldn't care less about. Honestly, I tune out by the "Fashion of the Districts" part and only back in again when she's about to announce the female tribute.

"Twylah Stitch!" she calls.

I know the girl, she's in my year at school. Twylah is sweet, she wouldn't hurt anyone intentionally and my heart nearly drops. Unless by some miracle the Capitol adores her, she won't win.  
I see her now, as she makes her way to the stage. Eyes wide, hand shaking slightly.

Oh no.

"And the boys!" Lila sings, marching in her six inch heels to the next bowl. Her hands are fishing in and for the first time in three years, my fingers are crossed.

"Nike Larke."

Oh shit.

I'm panicking and I don't know what to do. How do I walk up? Scared like I know is what is registering on my face? I don't-

Then I remember what Manon said. Death stare.

As I walk up my mind is racing. That's my angle. Don't talk to anyone, don't trust anyone. Distance yourself. That's the only way I'll survive.

I don't take Twylah's hand when it comes to it. Let them make of that what they will.

 **EYYY that's another one down! It's a little rushed since I have to go somewhere, but I hope you enjoyed it! Give me your opinions!**

 **NEWS! I'm going to be making character playlists on 8tracks for every character submitted. My account is** **astrealarrester and** **soon enough there'll be playlists for every character as their reapings come out. Listen to them when reading the POVs! The first four will be out soon, and who knows- there may be some hints to what happens to them in the future.**

 **See you soon!**


	5. District Five and Nine Reapings

**I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING ON SUNDAY AND MONDAY LIKE I SAID I WOULD! I completely forgot that I had to finish my 12 page Media Studies coursework and it was in a pretty tight timeframe. I feel even worse considering I posted a Night Vale oneshot on my AO3 on Tuesday, but in my defense that episode was BRUTAL and my favourite character had development. Was I really going to let that go? Nah. Do any of you guys listen to it, or are caught up? Was thinking of posting it here but the fandom isn't as apparent.**

 **Thanks for all the kind reviews, though! I'm doing a reaping from tributes of two different districts today, as their partners are both bloodbaths. I've also changed the 8tracks account I'm using to a new account ("floatingcats") as I wanted somewhere separate to keep my OC playlists from my fandom ones. Anyways, here's the reaping for District Nine first. Enjoy!**

 _From the POV of Maureen Wilson_

Not sure what's wrong with me, but I've never been really "scared" of the Hunger Games. I should probably be pegged as a crazy and thrown into some insane asylum, but the concept kind of excites me. I mean, sure you have the whole fight to the death thing- but even that sounds kind of exciting! Suure, I'm being delusional by thinking if I was to ever enter than I'd win, but delusional is my speciality.

Don't know what it is. Could just be that there's something wrong with me, or maybe the Capitol's influence has rubbed off on me in a way different than the others. Could be that my lack of fear, or perhaps my quote, unquote "insanity" as my brother pens it, could be my edge in the Games.

I'm not an idiot. I wouldn't volunteer. I'm smarter than that.

If I was to volunteer, the Capitol was expect something from me. It would get the other tributes to think of me as an idiot, get the underdogs to be afraid of me. That is the **complete** opposite of what I'd want to win the Games if I get in. They'd think of me as a career. Ew.

I hate the Careers. Like, _hate_ them. What's the thrill of the Games if you yourself are not facing a large threat of death within a minute of entering the Arena. If you've been living in luxury all your life, the intricate fashion and detail of the Capitol is purely wasted.

The Capitol already loves you. You've got to make them love you for it to count.

Rigging the reapings was pretty easy. Nobody in the entire district would expect _me_ to be lurking around as the names were being churned out from the large machine. The penalty for messing with the names and the computer is death, obviously. The Capitol citizen who was doing the job even left their passcode in. They probably relied on the Peacekeepers outside to keep people out, not knowing that both Jameson and Kevvy like to leave duty when nobody is around to get drinks.

That's not to say I didn't get caught. I did. The Capitol citizen caught me just outside the building and asked what I was doing. I lied like I do, but I was kind of off guard considering i didn't expect what had happened. I told them my name in case.

That was a few days ago and nobody's done anything about it.  
Maybe they figured out my plan.

So yeah, when my name is called by Lavia something-or-another I'm not really surprised. In fact, I'm rather pleased with myself, that my plan has gone through.

Right. Game face.

I pull the most convincing terrified face I can, taking a few stumbling steps up to the podium. Lavia- bless her- holds out her hand to me and I take it, making sure to look slightly unsteady and cautious as I do.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" She asks, her tone sickly sweet and pink eyes large. _It's a nice shade,_ I think to myself, which is pretty odd considering I'm supposed to be acting right now. I nod and she gives me a smile that looks concerned on the outside. No worries, I'll get her to like me as a person later on, anyways. As she steps to the boy's bowl, I can't help what I do. All eyes are on her and the bowl as she calls out the name of our male tribute, so it'll all I can hope that nobody sees it.

I crack a smile.

 _It worked! I'm going into the friggin Hunger Games._

After the usual pleasantries are over and done with, two peacekeepers take me by the arms and lead me- a bit roughly for my taste- to the large building behind me. Here is where I'll say goodbye to my friends and family. They don't give us much time, it's better to get them over with- both in their opinion and mine, to be honest. Still, it will be nice to see my family again, assure them that I'm _not_ going to die.

Mom and Dad burst in first, I suppose C is going to see me later- or perhaps not at all, I can't always be sure with him. Mom's already in tears, brushing flyaway strands of straw coloured hair out of her eyes as she rushes to me and envelopes me in a tight hug. Dad's eyes are welling a little bit, but he's always been so much more stoic than her or C. I suppose I get some of my personality from him, in that respect.

"Honey!" she gasps, trying to contain her tears. "How cou-could they do such a thing to my daugher."

She's obviously distressed and honestly it's putting me off my game. As gracefully as I can, I throw my arms around her and embrace her, letting my eyes well up with tears like I've practiced so many times in front of my mirror.

"I'm going to be okay, Mama." I say, desperately trying to get her to calm down.

She nods furiously, sitting down in the chair across from me and holds hands with my father. I look at the sofa. I don't think any other victor has ever sat here before.

"She'll be okay." my father nods at her. He gives me this look, this slightly cautioned look. Before he can say anything, I rush to him and give him a huge hug.

It's not long before they're taken away and Charles walks in. C is two years my senior and we've never had a proper brother-sister relationship. He's never really liked me. He's a bit too much of a pushover for my liking.

"Tell me you didn't rig it, Maureen. Tell me you didn't do this." he has an almost pleading tone to his voice, and I'm almost thrown off guard.

"What are you talking about?" I say, in an almost sickly sweet voice.

"Maureen. You sicko." Now his voice is full of disgust. "Why the hell would you- _for fuck's sake!_ "

I stand up. "What did you just say."  
He turns away, back to the door. "You're a horrible person. What you'll put Mom and Dad through. Fuck you." He gives me a gaze of pure contempt before slamming the door shut.

Hm.

 _From the POV of Emmett Harley_

 _Doot doot._

I tap my feet together, creating little ripples in the puddles by my feet as I do. Our escort is late, of today of all days, and I've got to keep my mind off of things for at least a minute. Granted, humming to myself and splashing in puddles isn't exactly a very good thing to do if you want people to think you're sane, Reaping day or not. Reaping day especially, though.

"What's taking her so long?" a boy next to me asks. I don't recognise him, he must be attending the public school. Not a big surprise, a lot of people do. Only a few people are working in factories from a young age, like me. I suppose you've got to have the knowledge that they teach you in schools, but I got the grasp of that as a kid. Dad taught me.

"The microphone isn't working because of the rain. The light on the corner's flashing red instead of green like it should be and if you can pay attention you can hear Nevvy complaining under all the rain." I shrug, giving the boy a smile. His hair and clothes are entirely drenched and he looks kind of like a drowned cat. That's pretty funny.  
He gives me this weird look. Ookayyy.

I guess that they probably think I'm being insensitive or something. That's not true at all, in fact quite the opposite. Inside I am _freaking out_ because we have a super low population this year and the odds of me being reaped are just that tad higher.

And terasse. Lots of that.

I'm purely trying to calm myself, though I do it in a pretty unconventional way. Hm. I'm a pretty unconventional person, those who work in the factory know that. Dad always says for someone with such a straightforward, logical job, I'm a little bit of an oddball.

Hey, it's not like I'm not _allowed_ to sing and dance in the factory. Plus, Jeanne finds it funny and entertaining.

Usually people like me, so I'm a little bit put off by the boy giving me such a weird look. There's no way to retaliate, though, as Nevvy, our escort is on stage. He's all green this year, and though he looks a little bit disgruntled due to the rain he's got a wide, kind of creepy smile.

He goes on to talk about all our victors, we haven't had many. At all. Like two. Like none.

Hahha, yeah we suck.

I shrug at the through. Sure, we're tech smart, but we're not as smart as Three. We have an edge as far as logic goes, but we'd never be able to kill someone. Quite often we'll go far in the Games, but we never win.

I can hardly see, the rain is messing up my glasses. As I wipe them frantically on my shirt, trying to clean them, I can hear Nevvy walking up to the podium. He's just a green blur now, gosh I'm blind.

"Laurel Vake."  
She must go to the schools, because I don't recognise her face or her name. She looks pretty sweet, but her face is absolutely horrified and my heart drops with sympathy. Poor girl.

She's stuttering as Nevvy asks her some questions, and I can barely listen. Oh no, she's not going to survive, is she? My chest hurts, like it does every year.

Then it hurts because it's beating so fast I can hardly breathe. Nevvy's about to pick the males and _oh my god_ it's so unlikely that it's me but-

"Emmett Harley?"

Well, yay.

I gasp, audibly, and the boy who looked at me like I was a freak earlier is now looking at me with a gaze that I probably was using for Laurel a minute ago.

But Dad and I have talked about what angle I'd take if I went into the games. And it doesn't involve crying.

Instead, I force myself to think positive thoughts as I make my way to the stage. What's good about the Games?

Thinking positively calms me down, though I'm positive most of the time anyways. It's an attribute most people like in me. Some people call my disposition girly, annoying.

Mehh.

So, bright side! Yeah. As I stand on the stage that's where my mind is racing to. I scan the crowd for Dad, he'll make it right. It's be easier that way.

I spot him just as Nevvy's listing the rules again. He looks calm, concerned but calm. My brick. I know he's urging me to think positive, not to crack on stage. _You can do this, Emmett._

Style. That's one good thing! I'll get classy, nice clothes! Not that weird Capitol fashion. Nicer, classier. Dapper. I like that work.

Erm... what else? Other tributes! I can make friends... yeah! Surely some are nice, at least I can find a friend or an ally. Somebody. Right?

Thank god it ends as it does, because I think I'm about to snap as they pull my into the building to say goodbye to my friends and family. As soon as they do, I let in a huge gasp of breath. No. I can't do this. I can't be in the Hunger Games. I can't be in the friggin QUARTER QUELL.

When Dad enters the first thing he does is pull me into a hug. It's comforting and I can feel my breathing easing as I relax. As he lets go, I slump back into the sofa and lie back, letting tears prick in my eyes.

"Don't give up, Emmett. I refuse to let you give up as long as I live. And you are going to live-"

"Dad..."

"No buts. We've discussed this. We've practiced and we know what to do if you get reaped. If- when, you go into the games you've got to make them like you. No giving up."

I'm about to say something, but he interrupts.

"No allies. We both know how soft you can be. In no way are you to get yourself caught in someone else's mess. You'll tangle yourself up and who knows what happens next. I know you."

"You're not giving me a break..." I joke, finally cracking a smile. He smiles back.

We talk for a minute or two, waiting for the others to arrive. When they do I give him another hug. Just before the door closes, he turns his head.

"Don't be stupid. I'll see you soon."

Then I'm alone.

I'm going to die. Oh god I'm going to die and I'll never have passed my training or made more friends or fall in love with someone like that fictional boy I've been daydreaming about in my head.

But then again, Dad wouldn't want me to stop daydreaming or hoping, would he?

No. So I won't.

 **Yayy, there it is! Hope you enjoyed these characters, they're both big personalities! Maureen is sparksflying's character and Emmett is mine! I will probably update on Fridays from now on, as I'm also busy writing and planning for a piece of original fiction I'm writing for NaNoWriMo. That's not to say I'll stop Paradox the whole of Nov, but chapters may be a tad shorter. Really excited for the original story, it's one of my best yet!**

 **How'd you find the chapter? Review and tell me! Seeya soon.**


	6. Sup

oh hey,

didnt see you there

(seductive leg crossing)

its ur best friend

Doodle (rogueofminds)

BACK AT IT AGAIN

RECORDING

LIVE

from PARADISE

Ok, terepi pipes jokes aside, I was just looking back over my profile on this site, because I basically have been exclusively been on AO3 for the past two months (just, y'know, indulging myself in post game homestuck fanfiction sh don't tell anyone) and I remembered this story. Ofc, it was gonna be a case of "oh wow, writing from a year ago, I bet this is shit" but as it turns out, it wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. And I feel a bit crappy at being one of /those/ authors, who shit on their readers by ditching the story halfway. Hehe. As it turns out, school was harder than I thought, especially when you sign up for a filming competition, your school play, AND nanowrimo. Heheheh.

But, rereading this thing kind of game me some Flashbacks (tm) to all the friggin amazing ideas I had back then. Goddamn, was I proud of that plot! And then i was all like - wheeellll nobodys stopping me from writing it again /intense shrugging/. so, yeah, i might? my writings gotten better (when im not being lazy and textspeaking lmao) after writing a novel (BUY OUTLANDS AT YOUR LOCAL BARNES AND NOBLES NOW (jk its not published yet)) so yeah. Expect, maybe a chapter? Maybe no? It's a mystery!

Yeah. I still have a physics paper to sit tomorrow, so there's that. But, hey. Keep your eyes peeled.

(whoamikidding i'll probably just write a post act-seven homestuck fic where jane actually gets lines cuz im salty. but hey, its not like i expect anyone here to read it, so might as well just pull this out of the garbage)

Really sorry.

Doodle.

EDIT: I want to work on scriptwriting, as I want to make a proper film for this year's media summer competition this summer, so I'm thinking, past the reaping, of doing this is script format. If you don't wanna read that, it's all chill. Just let me know your thoughts.


	7. District Four Reapings

**ACADIA LYNNE: DISTRICT FOUR FEMALE**

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from the thumping that against the walls of my room. Pacifica's been pulling her leavers party all night, and I've hardly been able to get a wink of sleep. Already, I know Paci isn't going to be surviving much longer than the idiots from Eight. Eight, being the district with the most bloodbath kills in recent history. I don't think their tributes have lived longer than the first two days in the past 17 years. I've done my research.

But Four hasn't had a victor in a much longer time. We've had our stroke of bad luck, but I think the Capitol's had it about up to their necks with us and our incompetence, and it shows. Dropped sponsors. Lack of popularity, of cheering. Even the other careers have been turning their backs on us. We've become the laughing stock of a nation, and it makes me sick. Two years ago, one of us died in the _bloodbath._ The fucking bloodbath, for god's sake! You'd think there'd be no stronger message.

And here we have our shit-stained mentors, who can't understand anything. _Teal and Pacifica._ Neither are smart. Neither are strong. They're attractive, but we lost our sponsor status years ago. We can't rely on popularity points anymore. We need someone strong. Someone fast. And brave.

Someone like me.

I haven't told anyone I'm volunteering in her place, but it'll be easy enough. I know Pacifica. Reading people is my forte, and manipulation is second nature to me. She'll wait until the cameras are already on her, confused. And then, once she's sure she's hot enough, she'll make "like, the best entrance ever!". Which is just the perfect amount of time for me to slip in and volunteer myself. Sure, she'll be pissed, and I'm sure I'll pay for it with a big, nice slap to my cheek, but physical harm to any tribute before the games is frowned about. Not that she even knows that rule. Pacifica is the walking, talking definition of why district four fails each year.

I'm supposed to be next year's tribute, but I honestly can't wait another year. There's nothing left for me to learn in this based academy, and I can't stand another year around more vapid, self-absorbed assholes. When I'm victor, at least I'll have the peace and quiet of a life in Victors Village to myself. Sure, there'll be cameras and publicity. But no more idiot hopeful, and no more idiot heartthrobs.

If there's one thing I hate, it's 'heartthrobs'. What's the point of them? They have no skill, no talent whatsoever, and they rely on the screaming hoards of Capitol women well past their prime to even go far. The games aren't supposed to be about how charismatic you are. It makes me sick. You fight, and you survive like the rest of us. It's not 'survival of the most popular', it's 'survival of the fittest'. The fittest being me, of course. But 'fit' doesn't always mean strong. It means cunning, and calculating, and courageous.

It means being able to take _any_ measures to win, underhanded or not.

I sigh again, the party music from upstairs throbbing through the walls. I don't wish I was living back with my stupid parents - curse them and their constant obsessions with looks and image - but it's moments like these that make it seem preferable. Eventually giving in, I slide on my shoes and slip out of the door. I've been up for a while, pacing around in my room, quietly steaming. Pacifica's really been getting on my nerves lately, and not just because of her position as the 'strongest'. No. She's acting like she's better than me. And _nobody_ does that.

Tiptoeing up the stairs, I reach her room. It's not hard to tell which one it is, from the latest Capitol hits blaring inside. _Poor neighbours._ Violently, I rap on her door.

"What?" she yanks the door open, her black hair spilling over her shoulders. I almost grimace at the sight of her face. It's caked in day-old makeup, her racoon eyes dull and bored. I can almost imagine my precious hatchet embedded in her pretty little skull. That's another thing. She can't handle gore. I can.

"I wanted to say, good luck for later." I try to keep my voice neutral. If I act sweet. she'll know something's up. I'm not exactly a _sweet_ person, and I keep to myself. She frowns at me. "It's a Quarter Quell and everything. Thought you could get as much luck as you can."

"I don't need it. The odds are in my favour." Then she slams the door in my face.

I scoff. _You couldn't handle a second in the arena, especially not in a Quarter Quell like this one. Plus, the odds are definitely_ not _in your favour. There's not in anyone's favour anymore._

 _Not when I'm around, they're not._

 **TEAL MARINA: DISTRICT FOUR MALE**

I bite back the bark of laugher that squeezes it's way up my throat as Virgo, our escort, holds out a sheet of paper - bless that sheet of paper - her eyes expectant. A sheet of paper that, ultimately, should not determine the fate of anyone in District Four. Except it does.

Because it's mine.

Let me explain. Volunteers are common in Four, expected, even. The girl who just stepped up proves that. We're lovingly dubbed as the 'Capitol's favourites' in the big city itself, and we're not-so-lovingly dubbed the 'Careers' in other districts. 'Careers' meaning that training for the Games themselves are what circulate our lives. Excuse the pun, but it literally is our career. Train. Sleep. Train. Eat. Re-watch the Games. Train. Etc….

So it will come as zero surprise when I say that I have spent the majority of my life training for this. Days and days on end running around on tracks inside our centre. It's formally called "The District Academy for the Gifted", but it's an elaborate lie. Training is illegal.

But, the Capitol doesn't give a shit. Otherwise, we'd all be dead by now. It's always been that easy for them.

Not for us, of course. People hardly understand how hard training can be. The tension in there can nearly be as high as the tension in the games. Maybe even more. At least there's only ever about six Careers in the games themselves, give or take. Outside of that, everyone else is terrified, and most inexperienced. Some are smart. Most aren't.  
Stakes are high in the academies, though. Everyone's pressing for that one place, and it's not exactly the environment to make friends. You're cold and harsh and calculating, which works for a lot of people. But not me.

I've never had a talent for underhanded methods, which is probably why it came to a bit of shock when I ended up being chosen for this year's male tribute. It's not often a _male_ tribute will go for the charisma angle, which is why people were so horribly bitter about the whole thing. I almost expect someone else to volunteer in my place - oh the irony that I've been reaped - but I don't think anyone dares to do that a second time.

So I guess my sarcasm and charisma it is. I suppose it's worked for District Four before. But then again, I think back to the 75th Games, that didn't go too well for him

Oh well. _Welcome to the Teal show, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you enjoy yourself, because you're gonna be here for a while._

Virgo looks slightly confused as I saunter up to the stage, a slight spring in my step, and take my place next to Acadia, who's giving me a competitive look. _Oh. Well two can play at that game._ Looking at her dead in the eye, I jokingly imitate her gaze, right down to the narrowed eyes and furrowed brow. Obviously, I've done it right, because I hear a couple chuckles come from around me, including Virgo. Hopefully the Capitol's just as amused.

"Well, that's quite an entrance!" Virgo remarks, having to stoop down to stick the microphone right in my face. Her wedge heels are easily half the length of my leg, and with her piled-on hair, she looks freakishly tall. "No volunteer? You have to give me your opinion!"

I look at her with mock surprise. "I thought these were the Reapings! Don't tell me it's the interviews already? Are the games tomorrow?" That causes another chuckle. Acadia rolls her eyes.

"I wish…"

"Nah. I was supposed to volunteer anyways. Looks like the odds are totally in my favour already!" I wink.

"Well, well! We have a jokester here, don't we? Give it a hand for Teal Marina!"

Scattered applause. Slightly smugly, I look at Acadia. My applause was louder than hers. _Hah_.

"Shake hands, you two, and off you pop! We don't want to drag things on too much, do we?"

No, we don't, but I'm going to bask in every second I get on air. After all, I need to win it with the audience straight away. Not being the most proficient of weapon-holders, I need all the help I can get from sponsors. _Especially if I'm against Acadia. She's notoriously brutal._

Still, I can't help but tease her just a little. Mockingly, getting on one knee, I hold out my hand, attempting to grab her's.

"My lady."

Flushing, she snatches it away. Looking at the camera, I pull a face. Yeah. They'll love that.

"District Four, your tributes. Acadia Lynne and Teal Marina!"

 _That's right. One of us is gonna be the victor. And it isn't the bitch._

 **That took longer than anticipated. I'll update quicker next time.**

 **Also I failed that physics test, if anyone cares. I might be murdered after results, so I'll try to get as many chapters out before then. Bit short, but I hope my writing's improved.**

 **Seeya, anyways.**


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